Iron Maidens
by A Being Of Violet Fire
Summary: All throughout the Seven Books we hear about HARRY'S hardships, HARRY'S life. But what about the girls in the background, who seem to be nothing more than plot-filler? These are their stories; & what would have happened if they'd been given voice. SongFic
1. Bowling Ball

**_A/N: Here's another song-fic. This one's another series, and I'm only rating it "T" for safety. I hope that you enjoy this as much as my "If I Die Young" series. Thanks for reading!_**

* * *

><p><em>Maybe he'll change, maybe things'll get better<br>Maybe it would be nice, if he wouldn't always put you down  
>Maybe things'll work out, but maybe they'll never<br>And I think you've given him the benefit of the doubt_

"I am glad to be seeing you, Hermy-own-ninny." Viktor greeted with a happy, gentle smile as she brushed the lingering ashes from the International Floo from her robes. "I vas being worried you vould not be making it."

"Oh no, Viktor, I've been looking forward to this for the last two weeks! After I finally convinced my parents to allow me to come, the Ports were all booked due to the increased travel following the Tournament. It was actually only because of a last-minutes cancellation that I was able to get here so early. If I hadn't already had my bags packed and ready, I might still be sitting in my living room!" Hermione was aware that she was rambling slightly, but she couldn't help it. She had a small crush on the Bulgarian seeker, and the thought of spending the summer with him in another country seemed to be quite the adventure to her – the non-dangerous kind, which were few and far in-between, for her.

"Hm. Come, Hermy-own-ninny, I have much of my country that I am wishing to show you." The excitement and anticipation that welled up at those words faded slightly upon his next sentence, "You should have been wearing more make-up and nicer clothing; you have not quite the splendor of one who is being expected on my arm."

Hermione flushed, feeling suddenly dirty, matted, plain. She resolved to do some shopping and visit a magical salon in hopes of taming her hair; even while she shoved the slightly callous and cruel, shallow words into the back of her mind.

Little did she know, such comments would become quite commonplace, over the next two months.

_You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head  
>Which means not at all<br>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him  
>You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head<br>Which means not at all  
>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him<em>

As the days progressed Hermione became more and more enchanted and fascinated by the country she was in, even as she was becoming more and more _dis_enchanted by her guide.

Constantly she was surrounded by Viktor. His presence, his bodyguards, his opinions, his thoughts, his _comments_.

It was with a start that she realized she'd nearly spent all her savings on perfecting herself into the image that Viktor obviously wanted. She stared at the mirror, gazing at the reflection that she didn't know anymore.

She was wearing a long, smooth black dress with a slit that stretched up to her mid-thigh. The high heels that she was wearing threatened to snap her ankles; and she desperately missed her trainers and jeans.

Her hair was sleek and wavy, her untamable curly locks a thing of the past. Her lips were heavy with red, while a shameful amount of rouge colored her high cheeks. Her eyes were heavily framed by eyeliner and mascara as well as an indecent amount of blue and green eye shadow.

Green and Blue…

Green, like Harry's eyes. Harry, who was her best friend and closest confidant. A boy whose eyes, although only slightly younger than her, seemed to cry out for help and protection. A mere child like herself who, though he wanted nothing more than to receive love and sanctuary from the world around him, was forced to give it instead. A boy that she loved with her whole heart and would give her life to save; secure in the knowledge that he would do the same for her.

And Blue. Ice blue that darkened to an almost violet shade around the outside, just like Ron's eyes. Eyes that said so much more than his bumbling mouth ever could, and told of the true meaning behind his oft-thought untactful or insensitive words. Eyes that sparkled when he laughed, darkened when he was thinking or strategizing, paling to almost white when he was surprised or bit into a chocolate frog. Ron, who always seemed so strong, constantly trying to protect both her and Harry; with hardly a thought to his own safety.

She felt wetness on her cheeks and saw the woman in the mirror crying. Because, no matter how much she looked, she couldn't find herself – _Hermione _– in there.

And she missed it, she missed feeling loved and cherished and _home_; in worn jeans and a _Coldplay _t-shirt curled in front of the fire with a six-inch thick book and Crookshanks on her lap.

And it was with a start that Hermione realized that she hadn't opened a single book the entire time she'd been here.

"HERMY-OWN-NINNY! Come, we are going to favorite restaurant now! Remember, you must be looking nicely or fans will be ashamed!"

Oh yes, Hermione was definitely becoming disenchanted with Viktor Krum.

_Maybe he'll change, if you could be better  
>But maybe it's not your fault, he's checking out the waitress now<br>But someday you'll change, one day you're stronger  
>And you will have changed enough that it's time to get out<em>

Hermione sighed as she took in the opulent furnishings around her. The Krim Restaurant in Sofia, Bulgaria was elegant, lavish, and expensive. The architecture was exquisite, and the décor and scenery alluring and captivating.

Much more so than herself, apparently.

Hermione sighed again as she watched Viktor Krum shamelessly flirt with yet _another _pretty waitress. What, did he seem to think that just because he was using another language she wouldn't be able to interpret the twinkle in his eyes, the oh-so-familiar smirk on his lips, or – _hello, Mr. Obvious! – _the errant hand that caressed the blond tart's arm?

Or maybe, even for all her work, he just didn't care.

Hermione suddenly realized that, if there was one thing that she'd observed and learned about Viktor Krum during her summer-long visit to Bulgaria following the hectic events at the end of her fourth year at Hogwarts, was that Viktor Krum was something of a playboy. A _never-satisfied _playboy.

Apparently his wide, sloping shoulders, duck-feet, and kind smile lured in more than just bushy-haired, know-it-all Gryffindors. Because these _tramps _were _Muggles_, and thus didn't know a _whit_ about Krum's famous Quidditch player status! How could she have not seen it before?

It was infuriating! It was disgusting, insulting!

…it was heart-breaking.

Abruptly, Hermione realized that It hurt that the first person to see her as a woman – _heck, as a stinking __**girl!**__ – _was so frivolous and immoral. She wondered if he really ever liked her, or was just hoping to add her as another one of his conquests. Apparently, she was taking longer to capitulate than he'd first thought, if he was already setting up his next pretty bird right in front of her.

Hermione would have thrown down her napkin and stormed out of the restaurant _that second_, if she hadn't remembered that she was in another country. As it was, she could only speak shoddy Bulgarian (the spell she'd found faded, and could only be recast once a week. She was on day six, and could only interpret the occasional word here and there), and didn't have any money for a cab. If she had, she would have left straight for the Bulgarian Embassy and the International Floo-room, regardless that her trunk was still at the hotel (she'd asked him why they were staying in a hotel at first, rather than the Manor he'd told her about, but he just said it was because he thought she'd enjoy the experience).

As it was, she was forced to sit through an entire evening of flirting and occasional forced conversation (although Krum didn't seem to notice her increasingly cold demeanor) while she mentally berated and cursed herself for being so _stupid; _before – _at last! – _he was ready to leave. She set down her fork next to her still-full plate, accepted her coat from the doorman with a nod of thanks, and exited the restaurant into the brisk Bulgarian air with nary a word.

She realized, as they rode the limo to the hotel, that he'd only ever seen her for her latent beauty and brains. And, while that might be enough for most girls; it most certainly wasn't for Hermione. She wanted to be loved for her personality, her sense of humor, her nagging and caring and cleverness and bravery. She wanted to _wanted_; for what made her _her, _not what would make the most valuable trophy.

Like Ron and Harry did.

And, suddenly, Hermione wanted nothing more than to go home.

_You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head  
>Which means not at all<br>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him  
>You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head<br>Which means not at all  
>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him<em>

"WHAT?" Hermione's voice and shock combined with her magic to completely destroy everything class in the hotel room. "YOU _WHAT?"_

"I vould be liking you to be marrying me, Hermy-own-ninny." Viktor repeated the horrible question again, still kneeling on the floor, where he had dropped to as soon as they'd stepped through the door after the miserable dinner affair (literally).

"That's what I thought you said…" She breathed, staring blankly and uncomprehendingly at the, apparently, insane Bulgarian seeker.

"Yes." He reiterated. "I haff decided that you are vorthy of being my fourth vife."

This time, Hermione understood _perfectly _the first time; her voice was now a low, dangerous whisper. _"What…?"_

It was becoming quickly apparent that, not only was Viktor Krum insane, but he was also glaringly idiotic as well. _A classic dunderhead, as Professor Snape would say, _Hermione thought scathingly. Krum continued, oblivious to how close he was to being obliterated. "Yes. In magical Bulgaria ve are often following practice of polygamy. Every Krum has been having von vife for every day of ze veek. So, are you liking Vednesday, or Zaturday? I already haff Zunday, Monday, and Toozday." Hermione suddenly realized why they _really _weren't staying at Krum Manor. He hadn't wanted her to run into his other wife - _wives! - _before he was ready. She was _not _pleased.

Hermione didn't even move her wand, didn't even _twitch, _just stared at Viktor Krum with eyes filled with fire and brimstone. And, without her saying a word, he froze completely and fell over sideways as Hermione's magic cast a powerful _Petrificus Totalus _upon the bloated fool.

She walked past him without a word, purposefully stepping (_stomping_) upon the gaudy, garish ring that had fallen to the floor. With a silent flick of her wand all of her things were packed away in her trunk. Or, rather, all of _Hermione's _things; as everything belonging to the '_Hermy-own-ninny',_ Stranger of Bulgaria – the dresses, makeup, and jewelry – held no place in Hermione, Lioness of Gryffindor's, heart.

She transfigured her trunk into a backpack and spelled it weightless, turned her horrid high-heels into trainers – _oh, thank MERLIN! Blessed relief… - _and, in a rare moment of rebelliousness and recklessness, tore the bottom off her dress until it was knee-length, so that she could run.

And she _knew_ she would have to run. But, thankfully, you can't live life beside Harry and Ron without learning how to run.

Without further delay, Hermione opened the door and bolted for her life. The two bodyguards on either side of the door stared in shock after her before looking through the open door. Hermione knew that she had very little time to escape as soon as they saw the petrified form of their celebrity; and therefore put on an extra burst of speed.

She burst through the front doors and outside of the anti-apparation wards of the hotel just as four more bodyguards in black Muggle suits apparated in front of her.

With a cheeky grin and a jaunty wave, and with the sound of the unspelled Viktor Krum screaming _"HERMY-OWN-NINNY!" _ringing down the street, Hermione laughed and popped away; glad that she had mastered Apparation early.

After all, as Rubeus Hagrid had once so eloquently put it, there weren't a spell invented that Hermione couldn't do.

Perhaps someone should have told Viktor Krum that.

_You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on __**him**_

Hermione popped into a side-alley right next to the Bulgarian Embassy. Hermione quickly cast a Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not charm upon herself before sneaking into the building. She legally wasn't supposed to be leaving for another week, but Hermione refused to stick around another minute.

After taking the elevator to the invisible bottom level of the Embassy, Hermione confounded the Floo Agent, before slipping herself a small satchel of the International Floo powder.

Thankfully, traffic _leaving _Bulgaria was significantly slower than the traffic to get _to _the Merlin-forsaken country.

All Hermione had to do was cast a wide-spread, powerful tripping hex at all the occupants of the room. Then, while everyone dealt with the confusion and mayhem, she slipped to the front of the line marked '_Ministry of Magic, London'_ and cast he powder.

And, as she disappeared in a rush of bright blue flames – _like Ron –_ she anticipated and relished the looks that would be on Ron and Harry's faces when she told them of her solo adventure.

She briefly wondered, as she stepped into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and paid a knut to use the local floo, if it was normal for her entire life – nay, her _existence – _to seem to revolve solely around two pairs of emerald and sapphire eyes.

'_Well, even if it isn't,' _Hermione thought as she yelled out "THE BURROW" and vanished in a flash of green flames – _like Harry – 'it's not like anything in our lives is __**'normal'.**__'_

She didn't need to travel, or have adventures, or Viktor Krum. She just needed Ron and Harry, and everything would be right in her life.

Although jeans, trainers, and a book wouldn't be remiss.

_You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head  
>Which means not at all<br>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him  
>You need that boy like a bowling ball dropped on your head<br>Which means not at all  
>You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on him<em>

_You have too much to give, to live to waste your time on __**him**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I hope that you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm doing a short – about six chapters – fic about various girl students at Hogwarts. A little back story, an appropriate song, and a (hopefully) happy conclusion. I fell – and hope you agree – that this was a good start. The next one will be out soon, and will be considerably longer. And you might be surprised about who the subject is…**_

_**A/N2: By the way, the song is called "Bowling Ball" and it's by Superchick.**_


	2. Plain

_He made you feel plain  
>When he forgot your name<br>Well let me tell you something  
>I have felt the same<br>I know you're in pain  
>But there'll be another boy along the way and<br>There will only be one of you and  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<em>

"C'mon Ron! Let's go walk around the lake for a spell." Lavender grinned at her boyfriend, pleased about her witty pun and excited at the prospect of spending some time with her own personal 'hero'.

But her smile vanished upon the red-head's next words as he turned around. "Sure 'Mione, just let me send this letter off with Pig. I'll meet you out there, yeah?"

And, without even looking at her, Ron swept out of the portrait hole and was gone. She rushed to the opening and looked out, but had already vanished from sight.

Lavender sighed and figured, hey, why not? And began making her way down to the Black Lake. She kept her head down and hands stuffed in her pockets. It was a rather sunny Saturday, and she was taking full advantage of the chance to dress casually.

The jean skirt, leggings, and halter-top were rather cute; and accentuated her long legs and hourglass figure. But, just as it had been since that life-changing Quidditch match, nothing she wore seemed to catch Ron's eye.

Shoot, if he hadn't gasped her name when she kissed him that first time, she might believe that he was under the impression that she was either Hermione or Harry. Because he hardly seemed to ever look at her, and almost always called her by one of those names.

Her mum and da had always told her about how beautiful she was, how much of a princess she was; but, in a deep, dark place inside of her, she'd never believed it.

After all, before and during Hogwarts, and during her summers off, no guy had ever expressed interest in her. Sure she had a lot of guy friends at home, whom she treated and thought as as _friends_; but still, no one ever made any sort of advance or proposition.

Even at Hogwarts, where she lived for nine-ten months out of the year, she had never been asked out to Hogsmeade or even to the library for some private study time (and she wouldn't actually mind if it had been _actual _studying, she was that desperate).

All the girls around her, friends and frenemies, all had dates and crushes and private snogs in broom closets (but not the fourth floor one on the right hand side- Parvati had discovered that the brooms didn't appreciate their disturbed rest and protested – rather violently).

But not her. Not Lavender. Ms. Brown. Plain, unassuming, dull, average. Named after two colors because her parents had no sense of imagination and that was the color on mum's nails at the time. And, really, with a last name as _ordinary _and _common _as 'Brown' – the color of mud and dirt and "_fucking shit", _she growled as she kicked one of the suits of armor's feet before running from his angry axe – she was doomed from the bloody start.

Having run the rest of the way to the lake, she perched upon a rock with a view over the sparkling water – a rock that she'd seen Ron sit at a hundred times over the past six years.

But, she scowled, he was always with _Harry _and _Hermione_.

She'd had a long-standing crush on Ronald Weasley for almost three years now. There had been a rumor going around that he'd fought off a Grim to protect his friends and had ended up in the Hospital Wing for his bravery (Slytherin and Ravenclaw's read: stupidity). So she'd snuck in to see him, only to discover him laying, pale and unconscious, with a broken leg.

She'd realized that the rumors were true, and had immediately felt a bit more respect for the chess-loving, food-shoveling, quidditch-obsessed boy. And that respect had morphed into awe, and the awe into adoration, and the adoration into… well… unrequited love, apparently.

In her imagination Ron had always been the handsome, brave prince; and her the delicate princess. But reality was a far harsher master. _Harry _and _Hermione _were the prince(sses), and she was the jealous, horrid stepsister; having grown up in the same house and now trying to steal him away.

Even now, she could see Ron coming out of the castle, arm in arm with Harry and Hermione. They were all laughing, and Ron's ice blue-violet eyes were sparkling, and his cheeks were flushed with merry red. They seemed to be heading for their rock – the rock that _Lavender _had stolen – when both Harry and Hermione caught sight of her.

As one, they glared, turned, and dragged Ron off to the other end of the lake. And, as they settled against the old oak tree and lounged in the grass eating candy and chocolate frogs and laughing; Lavender knew that Ron hadn't even noticed her.

His whole _fucking _world seemed to be centered around those two. Whether Harry was happy or had a nightmare the previous night, whether Hermione had eaten lunch or not because '_she tends to forget such things when she's studying. Dedicated girl she is, __**our **__'Mione'._

And the affection and caring in his voice spoke it all. Because they were _**his **_Harry and Hermione, just the same as Ron and Hermione belonged to _**Harry**_**, **and Harry and Ron belonged to _**Hermione**_.

They were a trio, a triad. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were and had been and always would be. _Everyone _could fucking see it- except for Ron, apparently. And Lavender had lost count of the number of disgusted, condemning, or even pitying glances she'd received ever since she hooked up with Ron. Because she was trying to steal Ron – essentially, upset the balance of the universe.

But she wouldn't – _couldn't – _give up her dream so easily. She had her Prince within sight, and she was going to do everything she could to get his attention.

Because Lavender Brown was tired of being plain, of being invisible.

_You are jewel you're a treasure  
>You are one of a kind<br>And you shine just as bright  
>As the stars in the sky<br>You're a rare kind of wonder  
>Created just right<br>So keep your head up no matter the pain  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<br>_

So she did everything she could. She dressed in skimpier and shorter clothes; she didn't even get a blink.

She started calling him the most ridiculous, disgusting, annoying nicknames; like 'Won-Won' and 'Ronny-poo' and even, once, '_Billy-bee'_ (Lavender nearly gagged herself). And yet, nary a twitch.

She began hanging all over him, following him, stalking him. She almost thought he had snorted in derision or scorn – _a reaction! – _but he was just sneezing over the Liumas Puffter's pollen in Herbology; turns out he had an allergic reaction.

But when she asked to leave early to see him, Madam Sprout said no; that he would be fine.

But, do you know whom she _did _allow to leave early and see him? Yep, Harry and Hermione.

It was enough to make her burn with jealousy and anger… or break down and sob in hopelessness and despair.

Even the _teachers _could see it! But Lavender wouldn't give up, she wouldn't let go. She was a Gryffindor after all, and Gryffindors _never _give up.

Even the really plain, invisible ones.

_You tell me 'you're not the type'  
>The kind of girl that they like<br>And you're a little insecure about  
>How you look in their eyes<br>Well fashion will change  
>Trends come and go everyday<br>But there will only be one of you and  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<em>

She ran up to Gryffindor Tower during break and changed her clothes – _like she always did at least four times a day in hopes of getting him to __**see **__her – _before rushing down to the Hospital Wing. She knew that Harry and Hermione were spending the break in the library, looking up the symptoms to Puffter allergies and possible cures – seeings how, apparently, Ron was also allergic to the chemicals released in the stewed Devil's Snare in the counter potion.

Her poor Prince just couldn't seem to catch a break, and he _needed _her to stand strong by his bedside until he awoke. Maybe then, when he woke up and saw her loyal and smiling – even if a little plain – face, _maybe then, _he would see her.

Her thoughts and hopes and desperate dreams were brought to an abrupt stop when she turned the corner and collided… with a rather infamous group of Slytherins.

She stiffened when Draco sneered before looking her up and down in a way that made her skin feel like it was filled with ants. "So," he drawled with a raised eyebrow. "The Slut is off to woo her Weasel Prince. Why don't you just go in naked, I'm sure it wouldn't make any difference."

Lavender briefly noticed the girl's – _Parkingson? – _horrified glance towards the Malfoy Heir, or the way that she shrunk back into the two boys – _Nott and Zabrina? Zabini? – _behind her. After that, she didn't notice anything beyond the blood roaring in her ears.

Unfortunately, it wasn't loud enough to drown out the horrible poison and truth that dripped from the smirking bastard's lips. "Congratulations, Brown, you're officially the first Gryffindor I've ever actually _pitied_. Everyone can see that the Weasel couldn't care less about you, and you're only setting yourself up as the most desperate skank at Hogwarts. It's rather pathetic, really."

And suddenly she _saw, _she _knew_, that her's was a fruitless venture. And she realized how far she had capitulated in her quest for her happily-ever-after.

The girl who loved X-Men comics, skinny dipping in the Black Lake at midnight, and took fencing and horseback riding lessons as home, had all but disappeared. And for what? Short skirts, heavy, sluttish makeup, and a boy who she wasn't even sure knew her name?

The truth was painful, glaringly obvious, and maliciously cruel as it was revealed by sadistically gleeful grey eyes. So Lavender did the only thing that she could do, Gryffindor lion or not.

She ran.

She ran from the truth, from the pain and anguish. But, most of all, she ran from _herself_.

And it seemed like her whole life would be nothing more than a fruitless venture. But who cares, really? She's just the pathetic, ordinary, lonely, invisible Ms. Brown.

Just… plain.

_You are a jewel you're a treasure  
>You are one of a kind and<br>You shine just a bright as  
>The stars in the sky<br>You're a rare kind of wonder c__reated just right  
>So keep your head up no matter the pain<br>There's nothing about you that's plain_

Lavender lost track of the time she spent weeping and sobbing in the third corridor bathroom. Malfoy's words were a acidic, bitter, painful pill to swallow; and Lavender felt like her heart would never stop _breaking and breaking and breaking_.

So, when an unexpected hand landed on her shoulder, she nearly left her body in fright as she yelped.

She turned to see who was behind her, and was frustrated with herself when she found that she had to wipe her eyes furiously before she could see through the heavy veil of tears.

As soon as she caught sight of her companion, Lavender suddenly, _desperately _wished that she _was _invisible. Because _anything _would be better than being caught sobbing like a first year Hufflepuff in front of a _Slytherin_ – even is it was only Pansy Parkingson.

For a minute, though, Lavender had to wonder if she was hallucinating. Maybe her bout of uncontrollable tears had left her overly dehydrated? Because there was no _way _that Parkingson was crying too.

But this was proven true, however, when Pansy – _suddenly, Lavender couldn't find it in herself to refer to her by her last name – _dropped to her knees before her.

"I know, Lav. By Merlin, I know." And the knowledge and pain and _truth _in her eyes was so potent, so _real_, that Lavender automatically believed her. And in that moment, both broken girls found a kindred spirit.

And, as they held each other and cried and unloaded their burdens, a small part of their hearts were soothed, and they began to heal.

Because Pansy understood just as Lavender understood. They both _saw_, and suddenly, they weren't invisible anymore.

_See your mind, it is precious  
>Though your heart may be restless<br>And your eyes they will see  
>All that you're meant to be<br>'Cause your spirit is strong  
>And your soul carries on<br>You'll keep your head up no matter the pain  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<em>

Pansy was waiting around the corner to hold Lavender after she broke it off with Ron. And Pansy had never wanted to curse the red-head more than in that moment, when he just shrugged and said, _"Alright, whatever," _before going back to shoving copious amounts of food into his gullet.

After the final tears that she would ever shed over Ronald Weasley had stopped falling, Lavender sat back and smiled at her new friend, feeling like the experience was remarkably cathartic.

She felt a little bit more like herself again; as well as a completely new person.

Pansy smiled at her Gryffindor friend – _and wasn't __**that **__a surprise? – _even while still-unhealed, similar pain shined in her own eyes. But she felt a bit of hope, too, that she could do the same. But this was a victory, and triumph, and it deserved some light-hearted fun and celebration.

"If it's any consolation," Pansy smirked, eyes dancing with hidden mirth. "You don't have to worry about cooking for and feeding that food processor he calls a stomach. And I've heard that he snores something awful."

"No!" Lavender gasped in horror. "If I'd known that from the beginning, I never would have considered it!"

The two girls broke down in giggles before linking arms as Pansy led Lavender through a secret passageway and down a corridor.

"Three Broomsticks?" Pansy asked in a whisper, sneaking up to the one-eyed crone's hump and whispering, _"Dissendium_."

"But of course!" Lavender snickered as she slipped in the passageway that had appeared behind her friend. "And maybe Honeydukes, I'm short on Berty Botts again, thanks to _someone…_"

Pansy groaned and clutched her stomach. "I am _never _playing another game of truth-or-dare with you again, Lav."

"That's what you said last time, Pans."

"Oh, right."

Both girls giggled before moving down the darkened tunnel. Suddenly, Lavender remembered something that she'd been meaning to ask the Slytherin.

"Hey, Pans?" She girl in question made an affirmative noise. "You never did tell me how you found this passageway. And I was too excited and shocked last time to ask."

She snickered. "Another mark against Weasel. Potter might be almost as secretive and sly as a Slytherin, but Weasley is _not_. I was in plain sight one time when he ran to the statue, tapped the hump, and said the password _loud enough for me to hear it_, before jumping down the passageway and out of sight. I had to have spent twenty minutes laughing so hard I cried in the bathroom after that, before I could compose myself and head back to the common room."

Lavender outright laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever, as they reached the end of the tunnel and opened the trapdoor.

But, just as they were sneaking out of the cellar and into the crowded sweets shop, Lavender reached out and grabbed her friend's hand to stop her. Pansy looked back in confusion, only to meet Lavender's happy, teary golden-brown eyes.

"Thanks Pans. For everything." Pansy smiled, and they linked arms like they'd been friends their entire lives, rather than just weeks; before entering Honeydukes – and their new life – together, side-by-side, best of friends.

_You know I've had my days  
>When I feel out of place... yea<br>I look at who I am  
>Cover what I can<br>I wish it all would change, but  
>Take the makeup away<br>You see the same girl still remains  
>She may not feel that beautiful<br>But there's nothing about her that's plain_

_You are jewel you're a treasure  
>You are one of a kind<br>And you shine just as bright  
>As the stars in the sky<br>You're a rare kind of wonder  
>Created just right so keep<br>Your head up no matter the pain  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<em>

Now, months later, Lavender could see that it had nothing to do with her. She wasn't ugly, or plain, or ordinary. It wasn't even all Ron's fault. His eyes had just been filled by his loves – _his _world. And, in his world of three, there wasn't anymore room for another Gryffindor.

Now that her eyes weren't filled with stars and impossible dreams, Lavender could see the looks that boys threw her when they thought she wasn't looking. Looks that took in her modest, but cute clothing appreciatively. Ones that gazed at her wavy caramel-colored hair or couldn't look away from her jean-clad legs.

And, gradually, Lavender began to believe in what her parents had always told her. She was _beautiful_, and desirable, and precious.

There was _nothing _about her that was plain.

Now, it was time to help Pansy to see that.

But that's a battle for another time…

_You may have felt plain, but  
>Girl they all know your name<br>Let me tell you something, yeah  
>There's nothing about you that's plain<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Hope you liked the second chapter. Not many people are reading this… and I only got one review. That's a little depressing…**_

_**Anyway, I do this more for my own enjoyment (though an occasional review makes me happy, too) and so I had fun with this chapter.**_

_**Pansy's story will be next, so stay tuned. Thanks for reading!**_

_**A/N2: This song is called "Plain" by ZoeGirl.**_


	3. Dismissed

_How many times have you tried to pull one over on me?  
>Always mess with me and try to get the best of me<br>Lookin' back, all the pain that you put me through  
>Why would I fall for a fool like you?<br>Now you're talkin' like I've never played the game before  
>Save your empty words 'cause I don't wanna hear no more<br>Basically you're trying to take control of me  
>But you're not what I wanna be<em>

Pansy had always known Draco Malfoy, for as long as she could remember.

She'd loved him for about that long, as well.

When, at the tender, innocent age of five, she'd told her father that she loved Draco, and that she was going to marry him and give him '_lots o' kisses, Papa; like you give mummy alla time!' _– her father had done all in his power to ensure his little angel's happiness.

Lucius and Narcissa had been suitably pleased and approving upon the match, and a loose contract had been drawn up. Pansy would forever be grateful that it wasn't a soul-binding one.

Because, somehow, they hadn't factored Draco's spoiled nature into the equation.

But, after all, who can really know how a five year old child would turn out in a decade?

No one; and that was where Pansy's fairy tale crumbled to dust.

_I know everything about you  
>Yesterday has come and gone<br>I'd be better off without you  
>No lookin' back, I'm moving on<em>

Looking back, now, Pansy would liken her life to the story of the ugly duckling.

When she'd first started Hogwarts, she had been bombarded with names such as _'pug-face'_ and _'bulldog'_ and _'sour-faced shrew'_. But Pansy had merely suffered from the affliction that all Parkingson's suffered. Namely, that they would be plain and unassuming and sometimes even _ugly _in their years of adolescence; only to grow into their element and beauty when they came into their Inheritance at sixteen.

Papa had always told her that it was a good thing; that it ensured that she would gain true friends that way, ones that didn't befriend her only because of her looks. After all, Mum and he had been together before his Inheritance, because she saw _him; _and now there's was the best marriage that Pans had ever seen – even better than the Malfoys or even, crazy as it sounds, the Weasleys.

But for Pans, she'd always viewed it as a curse; because it tore the thing that she'd most wanted in the world.

She hadn't realized that it wasn't what she'd _needed_; and that her Papa was right all along.

_Never steal the song of my lips  
>I'll never bow down to give you a kiss, no<br>You'll never steal my innocence  
>You've been dismissed<br>Do your best to try to pull me down  
>I'm never goin' back even if I see you around, no<br>No, I'm never goin' down like this  
>You've been dismissed<em>

From the very beginning, regardless that they'd been together since they were in nappies, Draco ignored her.

When she was belittled or scorned or insulted, he just stood off to the side and stared the other way. It wasn't until she'd caught sight of the look in his eye in suit of armor one time, as he turned away, that she realized that he agreed with their words – he just didn't want to be the one to say them.

But worse, by far, was when he _did _begin joining in. Sneering at her and scorning her behind the closed doors of Slytherin. Sure, out in the corridors they presented a united front – because Slytherins must _always _stick together – but inside, she was breaking.

She would try to remind him of their contract, that she was to be his wife; but the words and poison that he'd screamed at her had tore her apart, and she'd fled from the pain.

And Draco's cruel laugh rang through the corridor behind her.

It was all she could hear, over and over, ringing and overlapping with the horrible words he'd spoken to her. She escaped to the one place that she was sure that she'd be safe; the one place where she could be assured solitude and privacy to properly fall apart at the seams.

But she was mistaken.

When she arrived in the back corner of the Library – in a room that was hidden cleverly behind a rotating bookshelf – it wasn't until she'd shut the shelf behind her that she realized that she wasn't alone.

And every day since she had thanked Merlin for that blessing.

It was Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott who had discovered her sanctuary, and stared at her with shocked and startled eyes; books open on their laps and still-dripping quills indicating the studying that had been interrupted.

She had turned to flee, not wanting to show weakness to these two Slytherins – to _anybody – _but before she could Blaise had leapt to his feet and grabbed her arm, caring not for the inkwell he'd upset in the process and was now ruining his Potions essay.

He had refused to let her leave, sitting her down onto some pillows that Theo had conjured on the floor and gently encouraging her to tell them what was wrong. Between Blaise's humorous, kind teasing and prodding and Theo's gentle, soothing, patient presence; Pansy had finally broken down and unloaded her heart upon their able shoulders.

And they had never let it go.

From then on that had become _their _place, _their _hideout, sanctuary, clubhouse. Whenever Pansy or the students would say something particularly horrible or degrading, they would all come here by mutual, unspoken agreement as she cried and they comforted her; all away from the judgment and scorn of prying eyes. Blaise and Theo would soothe her and assure her that Draco was just having a bad week, that he really didn't mean it, that he would apologize soon and/or see the errors of his ways.

Neither Blaise nor Theo believed that for a second. But if Pansy left their sessions a little happier, a little lighter, then they weren't going to change a thing. It didn't matter if they knew that their false faith in Draco was misplaced, or if they knew that he'd eventually do something irreparable and break her heart. They helped her heal, helped her survive; and they would still be there when that time finally came.

Because they existed for Pansy. For her smile that revealed gap front teeth; her laugh that was loud and unrestrained guffaws mixed with the occasional unashamed snort; and her sparkling cornflower blue eyes that showed the emotions she wasn't able to hide behind her Slytherin mask.

Because they loved her. And they knew, even if she didn't yet, that she loved them back.

But it wasn't just a one-sided relationship. Like all Slytherins, Blaise and Theo had suffered in their own way. And, just like they did with her, she would drag them to the Sanctuary and comfort them.

It was during one of these times that they first started falling in love with her.

When Theo would be taunted about his Ravenclaw-ish tendencies, always having his nose stuck in a book and never attending Quidditch games; Pansy would owl-order a new Shakespeare novel and gift it to him with a new bookmark or a fancy or weird Muggle hat (one of Theo's secret, guilty pleasures).

And when Blaise was ostracized for his pranking tendencies and denied the Seeker position, even though he was better, because his Mam couldn't afford to buy all new brooms like Mr. Malfoy did; Pansy would drag him from his dorm room in the middle of the night and spell a half-dozen snitches to be glow-in-the-dark before racing him to see who could catch the most (he always one, but she never seemed to be bothered).

She would secretly bake cookies with the house elves and bless them with the heavenly culinary delights whenever the mood struck her. She smuggled a few Muggle games – like Monopoly and Risk and Twister – and thoroughly trounced them every time.

She twirled a strand of ebony-black hair around her finger when she was studying; bit and sucked on the end of a quill or her nails when she was nervous; and stroked her chin like some evil overlord whenever she was plotting or scheming.

They knew more about her than Draco ever had. They didn't see her pug-face or slightly high-pitched voice or crooked teeth.

They saw Pansy.

Now they just had to wait for Pansy to see _them_.

_Let me break it down one more time  
>No, you're never gonna change my mind<br>That was then this is now things are different  
>No, you're not what I'm livin' for<em>

It was fifth year, one year before Pansy would _finally _come into her Inheritance and become beautiful. And then Draco would see her and love her and care for her. After all, it was well known that Malfoys only had the best, the most beautiful. That was the only reason that he was being mean now; he just was waiting for what he deserved. And Pansy only had to wait one more year before she could give it to him.

She didn't notice her two best friends' increasingly saddened expressions when they heard her fantasizing, and even if she had she wouldn't have understood.

Draco suddenly burst into the room as though he owned it, declaring that they would join him to go to the Black Lake – as though he owned _them _as well. But Pansy just squealed and jumped up, grabbing an Agatha Christie novel and pinning up her hair. Blaise and Theo just sighed before nodding and getting up as well.

No matter how much this was making her happy, they weren't going to leave their little Flower alone with the malicious, cruel, petty Malfoy Heir.

But Pansy knew nothing of her friends' dark thoughts and ruminations. Draco had invited her – _and others too; but still, __**her!**_ – to go to the Black Lake. Maybe he was turning around, maybe today would be different, would change everything.

She had no idea how right she was to be.

Almost as soon as they'd left the Common Room Draco started going on and on about the latest scandal; throwing in the occasional cruel comment that would cause her heart to ache and Blaise and Theo to growl.

Things like _'That Brown girl used to dress as plainly and dull as you Parkingson, but now she's been going into full-out whore-mode'_ and '_I can't believe she hooked up with the Weasel; but I guess her options aren't too numerous when she's almost as ugly as you are, Pansy' _and the worst _'people who believe in fairy-tale fantasies are delusional and pathetic. Girls like that are no more than brain-less air-heads that are good for nothing more than a quick fuck'._

Pansy's breath had hitched and she'd stared at Draco in horror just as the self-same Gryffindor barreled around the corner only to freeze at the sight of them.

Pansy hardly heard what Draco said through the blood roaring and rushing in her ears. But, given the identical tears filling those brown eyes that were also spilling from hers; she had a pretty good idea.

Malfoy had just broken two hearts in the span of three minutes. And even if he had realized, Pansy suddenly saw, with startling clarity, that he wouldn't care.

Just like he didn't care when she ran after Lavender; as it was only the voices of Theo and Blaise that echoed after her.

But, for the first time, Pansy couldn't go to their Sanctuary and talk about it. Because there were no more empty assurances and words of promise anymore. She didn't need pity, she needed understanding. True, honest-to-Merlin understanding.

And she knew of the one place that she would find it.

_I know everything about you  
>It's funny how the tables turn<br>I'll be better off without you  
>Now you're the one who's gettin' burned!<br>Never steal, never steal, never steal_

In the weeks and months that Pansy spent with Lavender following the 'Revelation', as they called it, were some of the most freeing and relieving months that Pansy could remember in a long, long time.

Somehow, helping Lavender gain her independence and help herself was remarkably cathartic. Somehow, helping her best friend heal and grow more and more courageous and free caused some of those own emotions to grow in herself. Pansy found herself feeling more and more like a Gryffindor, and couldn't find it in herself to regret that fact.

They remained fast friends throughout the rest of the school year, and promised to keep up correspondence during the summer. Pansy swore to tell Lavender the _minute _that she went through her Inheritance. And with one final embrace, they departed ways.

And now Pansy was lying in her bed, thinking that midnight couldn't come fast enough, waiting for the moment that she turned sixteen. As she waited, she thought over her time with Lavender and, surprisingly, realized that something seemed missing. There was this ever-present hollow ache in her chest whenever she reminisced over the latter half of fifth year.

Suddenly, she realized what it was. She had hardly seen Blaise and Theo the whole time. She realized that she hadn't visited their Sanctuary at all, and that she'd practically abandoned them following the Revelation.

But, what shocked her the most, was the sharp stab of pain and guilt that struck her when she realized this. But why would she feel like that? Yeah, she probably should have talked to them more, but they were boys and they could entertain themselves without her for a spell, right?

And Merlin, why did that thought hurt more than anything else?

She abruptly decided to do everything in her power to make it up to them. She never even contemplated trying to integrate Lavender into the group or introduce her to their Sanctuary. That was _their _place, for only them; and somehow the thought of bringing in Lav – no matter how much she loved her – brought a sour taste to her mouth.

No, she needed to do something just for _them_. Maybe bake them cookies and buy Theo a new book. Get some pranking items for Blaise or offer to do his homework for a month (she wouldn't tell Theo; he'd bust a vein, the studious rule-abiding sod). She resolved to make everything right, to do anything and everything possible to prove to them that she still loved them. And that- _wait… WHAT?_

The thought – the realization – hit her just as the spine-splitting, core-deep pain of her Inheritance tore through her body.

And, as she succumbed to unconsciousness and fell limp, one burning, shining truth pulsed deep within her heart and mind.

Blaise and Theo loved her. And she finally, _finally _realized that she loved them too.

_Never steal the song of my lips  
>I'll never bow down to give you a kiss, no<br>You'll never steal my innocence  
>You've been dismissed<br>Do your best to try to pull me down  
>I'm never goin' like it if I see you around, no<br>No, I'm never going down like this  
>You've been dismissed<em>

Pansy smiled as she walked through the Great Hall and moved towards the Slytherin table. She found a place between Blaise and Theo and quickly sat down.

She slipped down the hood of her cloak and turned to Theo, ignoring the choking of the person across from them, and smiled. "Hey love, you was your summer?"

Theo didn't respond, as he currently didn't possess the capability. He was positively struck dumb by the beauty in front of him.

Her long ebony hair was slightly curly, flowing across her shoulders and down her back in long, silky tresses. Her skin was a flawless caramel without a single blemish, while her lips were full and a natural soft pink. Her nose was straight and elegant, and her cheeks were colored with a light red flush. Her eyes were sparkling, clear cornflower blue, framed by thick, long eyelashes.

Wait… sparkle? Cornflower blue? "… Pansy…?" Theo whispered hoarsely, and the person across the table started choking even more.

"Yeah." Pansy whispered, her love's awed gaze causing a bashful, pleased flush to spill into her cheeks. "I came into my Inheritance over my birthday. I'll tell you all about it later. Maybe in our place?"

The tight knot in Pansy's chest – the one that had worried that they would reject her after her abandonment during last year – loosened when Blaise, who finally regained the ability to speak, blurted, "YES!" And caused her to burst out in all-too-familiar, totally Pansy-esque laughter.

After her merriment had ended she returned her attention to her loves, totally ignorant of the awed gazes of nearly every male in the hall. She blushed even brighter as she prepared to put herself out there, to take the risk for the people whom she loved and knew loved her in return. Suddenly, she realized that it really wasn't so much of a risk. "And… maybe later we can go to Honeydukes? And, I found this new tea-place that's not all pink and garish like Puddyfoot's, and I thought – hoped – that, I dunno… maybe we could…"

Theo and Blaise smiled brightly, knowing what she was really asking and thrilled – _ecstatic – _that she'd finally seen. And now she was all theirs, and they were _never _letting go. They each took one of Pansy's delicate, long-fingered hands in one of theirs and waited patiently, tenderly, until she tapered off.

"Love?" Theo whispered, voice shaky in a way that showed that he'd feared this day would never come. "We would love nothing more."

Blaise nodded, too overcome to speak.

"WHAT?" A voice yelped from across the table, and Pansy turned in shock to meet the furious grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. She had only a moment of pride and vindictive pleasure as the realized that, One, she hadn't even noticed that Draco was there, and therefore was moving on. Before, she used to watch his every move. Now, he just seemed to… unimportant. Also, Two, that _he _had been the one choking shamelessly as he caught sight of her.

But it faded into cold, hard fury as the Malfoy Heir stood, towering over her as though to intimidate her. He whispered in an icy voice that caused several weaker first- and second-years to shiver in fright. She was not cowed, and she was _not _amused.

"You most certainly. Will. _Not._ You are _my _betrothed, _my _intended; and I will _not _have you being an unfaithful bint." Pansy saw red, but cooly forced it down as she met Malfoy's shocked gaze with clue eyes filled with icy fire.

She stood up and adopted a sneering, dismissive mask before leaning close to him and drawling; loud enough for all those around to hear, "I'm afraid that you are mistaken on that front, _Little Dragon_. You see, my father was very, ah, _familiar _with the repercussions of the Parkingson Curse. After a particularly nasty situation a couple hundred years back, no Parkingson has ever had a binding magical marriage contract. Sure, loose ones have been drawn up, sort of a 'first-choice' thing, but nothing permanent or binding.

"And, since the final decision rested with the _Parkingson _Heir, I have decided that _you are not worthy_. So I am _not _your betrothed, _not _your intended. As a matter of fact, I am no longer _anything _to you except Ms. Parkingson.

"And don't bother complaining or ranting. Frankly, everyone's rather sick of you and the way you hang on your father's coattails. Nobody will listen. Well, maybe your latest _bint _of the month. Who is it this time, Abbott? Patil? Both?"

And with that parting shot she flicked her hair over her shoulder, turned her back on Malfoy's red, slack-jawed face, and left the Great Hall; grinning at the sound of applause that followed her out.

_On a falling star you got to where you are  
>And you think you've got the right to own my heart<br>But my affection doesn't lie in your direction  
>You want to hold me with a lock and key<br>Cover my eyes so i cannot see  
>But in the end we all know who wins<br>You are over, over, over  
>Never steal, never steal, never steal<em>

Now Pansy and her two, perfect loves walked down the street at Hogsmeade, not saying a word and yet utterly content.

Pansy had her fairy tale Prince(s), Draco was now reaping the consequences of what he had sown, and she was completely, utterly happy.

And, when she spied Lavender giving her a thumbs up through the Weasley's joke shop window, with _her _two new loves by her side; she just grinned and raised an eyebrow.

Oh yes, Pansy was one very, _very _happy Slythindor. Life was completely, utterly perfect.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

_You'll never steal the song of my lips  
>I'll never bow down to give you a kiss, no<br>You'll never steal my innocence  
>You've been dismissed<br>Do your best to try to pull me down  
>I'm never going back even if I see you around, no<br>No, I'm never going down like this  
>You've been dismissed<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: I hope that you all enjoyed this! I know that I certainly did. Please review and let me know if you want me to continue! There's about three-four more chapters that I have planned. Ta ta!**_

_**A/N2: The song is "Dismissed" by **__**Zoegirl**__**.**_


End file.
